


Confessions

by grey2510



Series: Light's Grace!verse [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Djinni & Genies, Episode: s05e04 The End, Episode: s08e17 Goodbye Stranger, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fallen Angel Castiel, M/M, POV Alternating, POV Dean Winchester, POV Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-24 15:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3773806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey2510/pseuds/grey2510
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is trapped in a fear djinn's dream, which Dean enters to save him. Dean is horrified to learn Cas' nightmare, prompting him to confide one of his own to Cas to show him he's not alone.</p><p>Canon-divergent after 10x14 and follows the earlier parts of the Light's Grace!verse, although could be read as a stand-alone piece.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confessions

**Author's Note:**

> This fic can take place pretty much anytime after the events of Part 2 of the Light's Grace!verse. Or, if you don't feel like reading the previous piece(s)--although I'd totally appreciate it if you did! *shameless plug*--all you need to know is that Cas and Dean are a thing and have more or less adopted Claire (she's mentioned briefly towards the end). Oh and there's a reference to Chapter 4 of ["One Extremely Messed Up Human to Another"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3617025/chapters/7984008), when Cas has a flashback to a conversation he and Sam had while Dean was all demony in between Seasons 9 and 10.
> 
>  
> 
> **LG!V TIMELINE: Anytime after March 2015**  
> 

“C’mon, Sammy! Knock me out! Cas doesn’t have a lot of time,” Dean shouts desperately, coughing a bit on the African Dream Root concoction he just chugged.

Without a second thought, Sam socks him across the jaw, and if they were still working that case with the cartoons, he’s pretty sure birdies would be flying around his brother’s head.

“Fuck!” Dean bellows, and Sam punches him again, this time knocking Dean unconscious; the movies always lie—knocking a guy out with one punch isn’t as easy and automatic as they make it seem.

The fear djinn is dead, but Cas still won’t wake up. Sam wishes this was an unfamiliar scene, but the memory of Charlie being trapped and Dean having to enter her dream is still vivid in his mind, especially the way Charlie had broken down and clutched at Dean when they had both woken up. Dean never said what nightmare Charlie had been trapped in, and Sam would never ask Charlie, but he figures it had something to do with her mom dying.

The death of a loved one as a nightmare.

What could possibly be worse?

And then it hits Sam, and he blanches in horror. He knows _exactly_ what Cas’ nightmare will be and that Dean should _not_  see it—not like this, not without Cas knowing or having any say in the matter. Sam should have entered the dream, not Dean (even though he knows Dean would have never let him go in his place).

Sam isn’t even sure _he’s_ supposed to know Cas’ nightmare. It had just poured out of the angel at the time, back during those terrible months they’d spent looking for Dean when the Mark had turned him, and it had been all Sam could do to keep it together when he heard Cas’ confession. To have to relive that…

 

**

 

 

The floor beneath him is cold and hard, and Dean blearily opens his eyes to see an industrial white ceiling far above him. He blinks away from the fluorescent lights and sits up. He’s close to a wall, but the plain white expanse in front of him isn’t what has caught his attention. It’s his clothes.

Last time Dean did this, with Charlie, he’d woken up in a 1950s military uniform. This time, he’s wearing his own clothes—his green canvas jacket, a grey t-shirt, jeans, and boots—but they _aren’t_ the clothes he’s wearing outside this nuthouse. He’s 99.9% sure that this morning he put on a blue button down that he thinks might have originally been Cas’. For some strange reason, this bothers him more than the military uniform: there, he had known it was fiction, that Charlie’s djinn nightmare had little to do with him. But if he’s in Cas’ head and wearing his own clothes, then that must mean Dean is somehow a part of the nightmare. Except Dean doesn’t remember this. Then again, staring at a blank wall isn’t going to jog his memory.

Sluggishly, Dean staggers up from the floor, using the wall for support. He's not sure why, but this journey into a djinn dream is far more nauseating than it was with Charlie. Just something else to add to the pile of weird. He turns around to check out his surroundings, and the pile of weird turns into a mountain.

_What. The. Fuck._

He’s in what looks like the cleanest warehouse ever: gleaming white everything, broken only by industrial yellow pillars. Oh and the fact that there are literally _hundreds_ of dead bodies strewn bloodily across the floor.

And they’re all _Dean._

_What. The. Fuck._

The thought bears repeating.

Dean knows his track record with death is well above average—hell (no pun intended), he’s met Death himself and even bonded, if you can call it that, over junk food. Sam says he lived through about a hundred Tuesdays, and one really awful Wednesday, of Dean dying over and over, thanks to that fucker Gabriel, but this isn’t the Mystery Spot. And, there’d been no multiple body count there. And, Cas had had nothing to do with it.

So what the hell is this?

Dean realizes, somewhat as an afterthought, that he’s wearing the same clothes as all of his corpse clones. There isn’t a whole ton he can do about it—Dean’s sure as shit not going around this nightmare bare-assed—but he shrugs off the coat and leaves it on the floor. He feels a bit naked without the extra layer, but it’s worth it to not resemble all of the dead Deans quite as much.

_Ok, table the creepiness and the what-the-fuckery for now. Gotta find Cas and get him the hell outta here…_

Dean frantically starts looking around the edges of the warehouse for a door, and finally thinks he sees one; of course, it’s on the opposite side of the huge room because why _wouldn’t_ Dean want to weave his way through thousands off dead versions of his own body?

Before he can get too far, Naomi appears from what he now knows is the exit. _Awesome. Fan-fucking-tastic._ Two other figures flank her, a man and a woman, and Dean assumes they are also angels. Dean ducks behind a pillar, thankful for the moment that the angels are too invested in whatever they’re doing to have noticed one of the Deans is up and walking around. The hunter knows most people think of him as a bit reckless—and he’s usually not one to argue the point—but he’s not an idiot: he has no idea what the hell is going on, and with three powerful angels out there, no weapons for him, and a thousand dead Deans surrounding him, he thinks caution might be the best approach for now.

Peering around the pillar, Dean sees the three angels grasp hands and their eyes glow bright blue-white. Suddenly, another Dean appears, although this one seems alive—sorta. Dean doesn’t think he’s ever stood so stock still in his life: his clone is more like a robot or freeze-frame version of himself.        

“Gabriel was always better at this kind of creation and illusion,” the male angel grumbles. Naomi shoots him a look of pure annoyance. “How much longer must we do this?”

“Until Castiel is ready to fulfill his mission,” Naomi replies coldly. “Bring him in.”

The subordinate angels nod, the male thoroughly chastised by Naomi’s answer, and they leave Naomi standing next to the Dean clone. Naomi puts two fingers on the clone’s forehead, and the clone comes to life. It draws a gun from the back of its jeans in a robotic way, its eyes blank, and it raises the gun into a defensive stance. Naomi walks to a side door and the lights go out. All of the other Deans around the real Dean disappear and the walls seem to close in. The remaining clone begins to move; the clone is fully “awake” now, and his movements and expressions are a perfect replica of what Dean is sure he does when he hunts.

Before Dean can stop it from happening, he sees Cas appear behind the clone. The clone turns in fear, and Castiel—because this isn’t his Cas, not when he's like this—quickly knocks the gun from its hands and punches the clone to the ground. Castiel’s eyes are blank and stony as he looms over the clone.

“No, Cas, no!” the clone pleads, throwing up its right hand in protection. Castiel crushes the hand and twists the arm back with an audible pop and crack of bones.

“No, Cas, don’t!”

But Castiel just raises his angel blade.

“Please!”

Castiel buries the blade in the clone’s chest. A trickle of blood makes its way down the corner of the clone’s mouth as it falls back to the floor, dead. The lights turn back on with a crackle of electricity and Naomi’s heels echo in the expanse of the warehouse. The dead Deans are back, too, just with one more added. Naomi looks approvingly at Castiel’s work.

“No hesitation. Quick. Brutal. Everything’s back in order. Finally. You’re ready.”

 _Holy fuck. Is this…is this how they brainwashed him? That fucking bitch._ Dean swallows, fighting the urge to vomit.

Castiel looks up, his blue eyes dead. Naomi leaves again, and Dean emerges fully from the behind the pillar. The angel’s eyes finally notice the movement, and they widen for a second, then narrow again. The angel blade rises once more.

“No! Cas! It’s me! Really me! This isn’t one of Naomi’s tests!” Dean calls desperately as he runs forward, weaving between bodies that he tries hard not too think about too much, and he absently registers when his boot slips slightly on the edges of a pool of blood. But Cas doesn’t listen; only Castiel is here. _Fuck. How’m I gonna convince him this is a djinn dream? That I’m real? It’s like Lucifer’s fucking crypt all over again…_

His blood turns cold. The crypt. _That’s_ what Naomi had meant when she said Castiel was finally ready.

But, Castiel hadn’t killed him that day. Cas had come back.

Castiel knocks him down with a punch as he approaches, just like he had with the clone not moments before. Dean takes the blow, scrambling to his knees as quickly as possible. He knows what happens next, but he hopes to skip as much of the beating as possible. The memory of the crypt is sharp in his mind, the words he said years ago pouring out of him once more.

“Cas, I know you’re in there. I know you can hear me. Cas...”

Another blow to the face.

“It’s me. We’re family. We need you. _I_ need you,” Dean professes through blood and a swollen lip. And just like before, Cas’ eyes clear at Dean’s declaration, and the angel blade clatters to the floor.

“Dean!” Cas cries, kneeling to the ground. He gingerly cups Dean’s face, avoiding most of the swelling and bruising. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…”

“Cas, it’s ok, man,” Dean replies, pulling his partner in and kissing him. “It’s just a dream, right? It’s not your fault. I’m fine.”

“What’s going on, Dean? How am I back here? How are you here?” Cas’ eyes are brimming with tears, and Dean grabs his shoulders. More than anything, Dean wants to just embrace Cas, but he knows they don’t have much time.

“It’s a djinn dream, Cas. Do you remember hunting the djinn? You got stuck so I came in here to get you out. You gotta wake up, man.”

“How?” Cas chokes out, his eyes darting around the warehouse and at all of the dead Deans. “I killed you…so many times…”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, I know, I know,” Dean says soothingly. “Look at me, man.”

Cas doesn’t seem to hear him, and so Dean grabs his jaw and forces the fallen angel to look him right in the eye.

“Look at me. This thing feeds off fear. You can’t be afraid of this.”

“But I almost killed you again. For real.”

“But you didn’t! Not this time, and not in Lucifer’s crypt!” Dean chuckles bitterly. “You _can’t_ kill me, Cas. No matter how much of an asshole I am.”

“I could hurt you, Dean,” Cas replies, his lower lip trembling.

“Cas,” Dean says, his voice low. “What broke the connection to Naomi in the crypt? And just now?”

“You…you said you need me.”

“Yeah. I’m _always_ going to need you. So, I repeat: you _can’t_ and _won’t_ kill me, Cas. You don’t have to fear this ‘cause I’m fucking stubborn and will just keep shouting ‘I need you’ until you stop beating the shit out of me if I have to,” Dean smiles weakly. “But you gotta believe it right now. You gotta wake up.”

“I believe you, Dean. And I need you, too. Always.”

Dean pulls Cas in, each burying their head in the other’s shoulder. The world around them begins to dissolve and Dean feels himself waking up.

           

 

**

 

 

A week later, the enormity of what Dean had seen in Cas’ nightmare still weighs heavily on him. The shock and horror of it all, the fury at Naomi, the sadness for what Cas went through, all of it. There’s also a part of him that both finds it surprising and completely believable that Heaven had better torture than Hell: if Alistair had forced Dean to murder someone he loved over and over and over again, he’s not sure he would have made it anywhere near thirty years before breaking.

And Cas has been carrying this with him all this time.

Even back then, when Dean had learned Naomi was brainwashing and reconditioning Cas, he had never known just how far that bitch had taken it.

And a week later, Cas is still recovering. If the emotions were bad the first time around when Cas was an angel, Dean can only imagine what Cas must be feeling now as a human. It doesn’t matter how many times Dean tries to comfort him, Cas’s guilt and fear cloud his eyes and he withdraws. Finally, Dean decides to come clean to Cas. To tell him something he has never told _anyone_. It’s a story that doesn’t exactly have a happy ending, but maybe Cas will see he’s not the only one.

They’re heading back home one night when Dean decides all this. Claire had practically pushed them out of the bunker, and Dean’s glad she did. Dinner, then a few beers at the local dive, and everything had seemed like it was back to normal—or at least, pretty darn close. But on the way home, Cas had fallen silent again, and not in their usual comfortable silence.

About a mile from the bunker, Dean pulls the car off onto the wide, soft shoulder of the road, far from any houses. Cas gives him a puzzled look, but doesn’t comment. Dean turns off the engine, and stares straight out the windshield.

“Cas, did I ever tell you about when Zachariah zapped me into the future?” he asks, although he knows the answer.

“Yes, Dean, but you were very vague. All you told me was that in that future, you had said no to Michael, but Sam had said yes. I gathered there was something about the Croatoan virus and that future you was unsuccessful in stopping Lucifer; future you was killed.”

“Yeah, that’s the CliffsNotes version.” Dean rubs eyes, unwilling to talk about this anymore, but knowing he must.

“Dean, why are you bringing this up now? We stopped the Apocalypse and it’s 2015; that version of 2014 has already been avoided.”

“I just…Dammit, I’m not good at this talking thing, so bear with me. Ok, so you know how a month ago you got that really bad cold and I flipped out when Sammy suggested getting you cold meds? Said some bullshit about your immune system needing to build up and fend for itself?”

“Yes…”

“Well, there was a lot more to that 2014. You were…you were a hopped up junkie, which is why I freaked about the cold meds. But that wasn’t the worst of it. Shit, I’d be a fucking hypocrite if I judged you for self-medicating, not that I want that for you. Ever. No, the worst of it was…us. Me, to you. What I’d done to you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We were fucking horrible to each other. We were together—but I didn’t really figure that out until much later—but we treated each other like shit. Other me was spending the night in some chick’s cabin, which pissed off another chick. And then meanwhile, you were hosting a damn orgy. And when I—2009 me—came into the cabin before the orgy started, before you figured out it wasn’t 2014 me, you gave me this look that was so fucking smug, like you were trying to make me jealous.”

Cas shifts uncomfortably in his seat and looks down at his hands in his lap. “Why are you telling me this?” he asks miserably.

“I’m sorry. Christ, this isn’t supposed to make you feel like crap. Just…hear me out. Anyway, so we were screwing around with other people, pushing each other away. And you were so strung out and just didn’t give a shit about anything. And it was all my fault.”

“Dean, I doubt you forced me to take drugs, and I am capable of making my own decisions.”      

Dean sighs. “Yeah, but future me drove you to do it. At one point you told him—me, I guess—‘I like past you’ after 2009 me made some sarcastic crack about future me getting back into torture, and the look on his—my—face was just awful. I dunno if anyone else caught it, but it was my fucking face, so I know exactly what other me was thinking. Shame, anger, jealousy, guilt…it was all there. Because future me knew exactly how much of an asshole he was and how much he’d put you through and how all of their problems all stemmed from the fuck ups he’d made. No wonder you liked past me better.”

“Dean…”

But Dean can’t stop, not even for the pleading in Cas’ voice. “I sacrificed you, Cas. We went to kill Lucifer, and other me used you and the others as a distraction. I tried to talk future me out of it, and the bastard knocked me out and let you walk through the front door to your death while other me went to take on Lucifer alone with the Colt. Other me—I— _knew_ you were going to die, and sent you to your death anyway. And didn’t even tell you, but I think you knew. Hell, other me didn’t even drive with you on the way to Detroit. Past me did because future me was such a jackass that he couldn’t even give you the decency of an honest goodbye or best last memory.  And I’d bet a thousand fucking bucks that’s why other me was screwing around with those chicks. Because I’d decided a long time ago I was going to sacrifice you and so I pushed you away. I turned you into this shell of who you were, I tore us apart, and then I killed you. Maybe not with my own two hands, but it was my fault.”

Dean finally falls silent, and he rests his head in his left hand against the window. His right hand is gripping the steering wheel even though the car is shut off, and his knuckles almost glow white in the dark. Cas reaches over and pulls the hand off the wheel and grips it tightly, sliding closer on the bench seat.

“Dean, it wasn’t you. And I didn’t die. I’m right here.”

“But it could have happened. Other me was still _me_.”

Cas considers this, then finally nods in understanding. “We’re the best and worst of each other.”

“Guess that’s one way of putting it,” Dean agrees with a half-hearted smirk. “I know this doesn’t change things, and I still wish Naomi were alive so I could kill her again, but…I just wanted you to know about that future, know about what I saw and could have done. So you know that you're...not alone, I guess.”

Cas slides even closer, and Dean sits up from the window and moves towards Cas. They lean into each other, Dean draping an arm around Cas’ shoulders as he snakes an arm around Dean’s waist. They sit there for a long time, just holding each other in quiet. It isn’t until Dean snaps his head forward after letting it drift back as he fell asleep that he realizes that Cas is also sleeping against his chest. Softly, he wakes Cas up and they continue on their way home.

Dean pulls Baby into the garage a few minutes later; the rest of the ride had been silent. Before Cas gets out of the car, he turns to Dean and the hunter is relieved to see Cas looks content, although sleepy.

“Thank you, Dean. For telling me.”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Dean says awkwardly. He clears his throat, and gets out of the car. “C’mon,” he says to his angel still inside. “I need you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this! Feedback is always appreciated. :)


End file.
